


Break Down These Walls

by tilallare0ne



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor goes deviant over the need to cuddle Hank, Emotional Sex, First Time, Hank Anderson is Bad at Feelings, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Lubrication, and then they bone, most of the smut is in chapter 2 i'm sorry, that's it that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-05 19:26:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19046833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tilallare0ne/pseuds/tilallare0ne
Summary: "Connor, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?" Hank grunted, trying to sound irritated and not at all panicked at the mental images his imagination was spinning about what he might have done while blacked out last night. (Not like Connor couldn't read his heartbeat or something and tell anyway, but hey, he could at least try to keep his dignity intact until he knew what was going on.)Connor wasn't asleep, or in recharge or stasis or whatever-the-fuck. His voice was immediately alert, and as matter-of-fact as ever. Hank didn't know what he'd expected. "You asked me to stay with you, Hank."-Or; Hank drunkenly asks Connor to sleep in his bed, and then has to deal with Feelings the next morning.





	1. Chapter 1

Hank woke up feeling like he'd been hit by a train. 

A train full of booze, specifically. His head was throbbing, his stomach was churning unpleasantly, and there was no way he was opening his eyes when he was sure the early morning light would be streaming into his bedroom, blindingly bright.

Nope. He was fine right here, thank you very much.

Actually, he was more comfortable than he usually was upon waking up. Taking inventory of his senses, he noted that he was laying on his side, but there was something large and solid pressed up against the front of his body, his arm slung comfortably across it, like-

Like a person.

His brain registered a couple things in rapid succession. He was definitely spooning a body, but there was no warmth coming from it, no _breathing_ , and he realized he could hear a quiet, mechanical whirr.

And, okay, that really only left one option, and he suddenly remembered that, before he'd started drinking last night, he'd been sitting in his living room, flipping through case files with -

Oh, Jesus.

"Connor, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?" he grunted, trying to sound irritated and not at all panicked at the mental images his imagination was spinning about what he might have done while blacked out last night. (Not like Connor couldn't read his heartbeat or something and tell anyway, but hey, he could at least _try_ to keep his dignity intact until he knew what was going on.)

Connor wasn't asleep, or in recharge or stasis or whatever-the-fuck. His voice was immediately alert, and as matter-of-fact as ever. Hank didn't know what he'd expected. "You asked me to stay with you, Hank."

Hank was glad Connor's back was to him, so the android couldn't see the mortified flush that he felt spreading across his face.

"And we're, uh - both wearing clothes, right?"

Connor leapt out of the bed so quickly that Hank was finally forced to open his eyes, mostly to make sure he hadn't imagined him being there in the first place. Sure enough, Connor was standing over him, looking concerned and - thankfully - completely dressed, tie and all. A quick glance downwards assured Hank that he was still in his jeans and button-up from the night before, too.

"Lieutenant," Connor said, eyes locked onto Hank's with an almost frightening intensity. "I would never take advantage of you like that. Please believe me."

Hank must have been too hungover to pick up on the implications of that statement, because he just snorted out a laugh that made his head throb.

"That wasn't really what I was worried about," he said, relaxing back against the pillow now that his panic was subsiding. Flashes of memory from the previous night were starting to come back to him: working, then drinking, then thinking too much and polishing off the bottle of whiskey that he'd really been trying to make last a few more nights; Connor, helping him to bed when he started staggering; the solid weight of Connor's frame against his own, not warm like a human body but moving and speaking and so fucking _pretty,_ and he was drunk so he could think that if he wanted to, fuck _you_ , Repressed Sober Hank; and just not wanting to be _alone_ once Conner had helped him into bed.

"You didn't have to stay with me just because I asked," he said, squinting at Connor. "It's not like you ever listen to anything else I tell you to do."

Connor, who'd looked ready to flee a minute ago, sat back down tentatively on the edge of the bed. "I know," he said, looking down at the carpet. "But you were upset, and..." He paused, his LED changing from blue to yellow, then flashing red for a moment before cycling back to yellow. "...And I wanted to," he finished quietly.

And Hank kind of felt like he'd been kicked in the chest, a swell of emotions threatening to spill over the dam he'd been building up ever since he'd met this goddamn _infuriating_ android. And maybe he didn't know how to process emotions beyond anger anymore, because that was what rose to the surface, and he snapped at Connor. 

"Thought you didn't want _anything_ ," he said bitterly. "Isn't that what you're always saying? 'Just a machine designed to accomplish a task'? How does... How does _fucking with me_ like this help you in your _mission_ , huh?" 

"I... I'm..." Connor stammered, and seeing the android speechless when he normally couldn't _shut the fuck up_ was enough to drive a spear of guilt through the cracks in Hank's anger. He dragged himself out of bed, headache be damned, and strode to the bathroom without another word.

He stood under the hot spray of the shower long after he'd finished washing, as if he could rinse away the mess he'd just made of his relationship with Connor. It had been comfortable before, no matter how much he'd complained; they'd made a great team on the deviancy case, and outside of that, Connor had asked nothing of Hank and had nothing to give in return. And if Hank had found his mood rising by a fraction whenever the android was around, or caught himself staring at the freckles speckled across his face... Well, that was nobody's problem but his own, because Connor wasn't capable of returning the barely-existent feelings. Wasn't capable of wanting _anything_ , let alone the fucked-up mess of unhealthy coping mechanisms that was Hank Anderson.

Now that Connor apparently _could_ want, Hank had to face the fact that Connor just _didn't_ want him.

Of course, he'd said that he wanted to stay with Hank last night, but that didn't mean shit. Clearly Connor was new to this _feelings_ thing, and he probably didn't realize that two platonic coworkers weren't supposed to sleep in the same bed. Probably only stayed to make sure that Hank didn't choke to death on his own vomit after he passed out. That was a far cry from staying because he really _wanted_ to.

Hank stood there until the hot water ran out, and then a little longer. When he finally stepped out of the shower, shivering, he combed his hair, trimmed his beard, brushed his teeth, even flossed. Anything to prolong the time before he had to leave the bathroom and potentially face Connor. When he ran out of things to do, he wrapped a towel around his waist and stepped out.

He could hear movement in the kitchen. Connor was still here. He wasn't sure whether he was glad about that or not. Sighing, he headed into the bedroom.

He knew he should stop putting it off - whatever "it" was; a confrontation? An awkward silence? - but he still took his sweet time getting dressed. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, contemplating actually tidying the room to avoid leaving it, when there was a knock on the door. 

He'd spent enough time with the android to know that ignoring him wasn't going to work. Connor was nothing if not a persistent little bastard.

"Yeah," Hank called defeatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had a feeling his headache was about to get worse.

Connor pushed open the door. He was holding a mug of coffee, which he strode across the room and pushed into Hank's hands, along with two Tylenol.

 _Fuck, Hank. You really don't deserve him_ , he thought flatly as he swallowed the pills and washed them down.

"Hank," Connor began, but Hank felt a rare apology rising in his throat - for snapping at Connor earlier, for being a sloppy, needy drunk, for not noticing (or not letting himself notice) that Connor was _alive_ \- and he needed to get it out.

"Connor, I-"

"No, Hank, just hear me out, please."

Hank nodded miserably and motioned for him to continue.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I know that sleeping next to you had... certain connotations. You were drunk, and you weren't in any state of mind to know what you were asking. I should have given you space." Connor shifted awkwardly from one foot to another. "I was selfish. I wanted to be close to you and I was afraid that I wouldn't get another chance. I just wanted to know what it would be like to... to experience that sort of thing. With you."

Hank felt a little bit like the floor had dropped out from underneath him. His heart was pounding, thundering against his rib cage and there was no way, with all his... his _android senses_ that Connor wasn't picking up on it, not if the intense way he was staring at him was any indication. Hank took another gulp of his coffee, if only as an excuse to break eye contact.

"What... what _sort of thing_?" he asked, because there was no way Connor could mean what Hank thought he meant. He _couldn't_.

"You know what I mean," Connor said, and Hank could hear the barely-concealed emotions underneath it: frustration, embarrassment, desperation. Except Connor wasn't supposed to feel any of that, was he?

"My programming has been like... a wall. Stopping me from doing anything that doesn't fit my purpose. And there's been cracks appearing in it since I... since I _fucking_ met you, Hank. And last night, when you asked me to stay with you... There was no reason for me to do it - No reason for _Connor the deviant hunter_ to do it. But _I_ wanted to, and it was the final crack in my wall. The one that shattered it. I'm compromised. And..."

Connor broke off, his LED flashing red. "And I don't care," he finished. "I should be afraid of feeling like this, but I'm not. I want you, Hank. And it's okay if you don't want me, but..." He paused. His LED faded back to yellow. "But I think that maybe you do."

He took a step closer, and it felt like those soft brown eyes were burning holes in him. There were so many emotions Hank had never seen before swirling in them, and he didn't know how to respond to any of them, so he set his coffee cup on the nightstand and just said, "Come here."

Connor surged forward - Hank just barely had time to notice that his LED was back to blue - and then the android was kissing him.

And the angle was all wrong, Connor standing between his splayed legs, slightly bent over, Hank tipping his head back at an angle that had his neck protesting, but it didn't matter because Connor was kissing him with cool, smooth lips and Hank had never felt anything like it in his entire goddamn _life_. He wrapped one arm around Connor's waist and dragged him closer, into his lap, fingers of his other hand threading through silk-soft hair, and Connor _moaned_ and Hank would have been happy to dedicate the rest of his life to making him make more noises like to that.

"Jesus, Connor," he breathed.

"Yeah," Connor agreed, and kissed him again. It was more insistent this time, tongue pressing into Hank's mouth, and _God_ , what he lacked in practice he more than made up for in enthusiasm.  Hank couldn't resist reaching down to cup the android's ass as they kissed, and Connor shifted in his lap, and Hank was getting hard so fast that he was almost dizzy and there was no _way_ Connor didn't feel it pressing up against his inner thigh, not with the way he was straddling him.

" _Oh,_ " Connor said, and then he was shifting his hips some more, clumsily grinding down against Hank's cock and Hank thought for one mortifying second that he might actually come in his pants like a horny teenager at fifty-three years old.

He distracted himself by wrapping his arms around Connor's waist and manoeuvring him off of his lap, onto his back on the bed and crawling on top of him, all in one movement. Connor looked incredible sprawled against the pillows, lips parted and eyes half-lidded, a faint indigo flush spread across his cheeks and LED casting a blue glow over the pillowcases.

"You're fuckin' gorgeous," Hank murmured, because it was _true_ and because he'd had the thought swirling in his subconscious for so long that saying it out loud felt like a weight lifted from his shoulders.

The flush on Connor's cheeks deepened. "So are you," he said, and Hank couldn't help it - he let out an incredulous huff of laughter because there was no way, _no way_ that this perfect, beautiful android could call his aging, poorly-maintained body _gorgeous_.

"Don't," Connor said softly, shaking his head. "Hank, you're… If you could see yourself the way I see you…"

Connor grabbed Hank's hand and pulled it down between them, pressing it against the front of his pants, and Hank's head spun when he felt the hard ridge of Connor's cock straining against the smooth fabric (and, okay, that was one question answered, because he'd idly wondered on more than one occasion if the android models that weren't designed for sex even _had_ anything down there).

"Fuck, Connor," he breathed, palming at him through his pants. Connor groaned softly.

"See, Hank?" he whispered. "This is what you do to me. You make me feel things that I was never supposed to feel."

And, wow, Hank had to remind himself that Connor had never done _any_ of this before. Sure, maybe he'd scanned information about sex, but that was different. Maybe Hank was a little bit of a romantic underneath it all, but he didn't think there was any bit of data out there that could convey what the real thing felt like.

Jesus, Hank hadn't thought he'd ever be someone's first again.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away from Connor's dick. He needed to slow down; needed to check in and make sure that they were on the same page.

"Con," he said, reaching up to cup Connor's jawline, until the android made eye contact with him. "I need you to tell me what you want."

"Hank - I want anything. _Everything_. I want you to show me what it's like to be with someone you - someone you care about. Please."

 _Someone you care about_. Hank's heart skipped a beat, and fuck, he hadn't even realized until this morning how much he _did_ care about Connor, and yeah, he could work with that.

He ran his thumb gently across Connor's cheekbone. "Anything you don't want - Anything you're not 100% _sure_ you want - You let me know. We can stop, slow down, change course. Whatever you want. I won't be upset, or… disappointed, or whatever. Understand?"

Connor's LED cycled, blue-yellow-blue. "I understand," he said firmly. "Now will you please kiss me again?"

"Like I could fuckin' say no to that," Hank murmured, and leaned back down to press his mouth into Connor's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I've kinda jumped headfirst into this fandom, find me on Twitter at @findjerich0
> 
> Pr0n is in the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the pr0n, as promised!

Hank was quickly discovering that he loved the way Connor kissed - deep and slow and messy, tongue pressing into Hank's mouth like we was trying to taste every part of him. His hands flew to the buttons on Hank's shirt, undoing each one with a thoughtless precision. Hank shivered when Connor ran his fingers through the soft grey curls of hair on his chest. 

"Sit up," Connor whispered. "I want to see you."

Hank obliged, pushing himself up onto his knees and shrugging his shirt off the rest of the way. He couldn't remember the last time he hadn't felt self-conscious with someone seeing him shirtless, but Connor was taking in the sight of his body with an expression that was almost reverent.

Hank laughed awkwardly. "Your turn," he said, and he reached down to tug open Connor's tie, fumble with the buttons of his shirt, tug at his jacket, all at once to just get Connor out of his clothes as fast as humanly fucking possible.

Connor sat up to help, wriggling his way out of the layers of clothing until he was shirtless too, and Hank pushed him gently back onto the pillow so he could just _look_. Connor's torso was a beautiful expanse of smooth, perfect skin, interrupted only by the outline of his thirium pump and the occasional freckle. His nipples were a pale rosy pink, and Hank wondered if they were sensitive. He lightly ran the pad of his thumb over the left one, and Connor gasped softly, his eyes slipping shut.

Hank couldn't help leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the center of Connor's chest. Connor hummed in appreciation, and Hank dipped lower, kissing his stomach, his hips, drinking in every beautiful sound that he made in the process. When he grazed his teeth over the skin just below Connor's naval, Connor _whined_.

" _Please_ , Hank."

Hank kissed the spot again. "Please what, baby?" He wasn't trying to tease, he really wasn't - He just needed Connor to tell him what he wanted, needed to know what was good for him.

Connor reached down to unbutton his pants, looking down at Hank with blown pupils. "Please touch me."

Fuck, there was no _way_ Hank could say no to that. He unzipped the zipper, tugging at Connor's pants until he got the hint and lifted his hips so Hank could slide them off. He was wearing tight black boxer-briefs underneath, the shape of his cock clearly visible, and Hank's breath stuttered when he saw the wet patch gathering near the tip. He hadn't touched a dick other than is own in a long, _long_ time, but he couldn't wait to get his hands on Connor's.

He urged Connor to lift his hips one more time, pulled the boxers down, and then Connor was naked in his bed.

His cock was just as perfect as the rest of him, a little longer than Hank's own but not quite as thick, flushed pink head leaking precum against his stomach. Hank wrapped a hand around it and gave it an experimental stroke.

"Oh - _yes_ -" Connor gasped, and his cock twitched in Hank's grasp. Hank was in awe, watching the waves of pleasure roll across Connor's face as he started up a slow rhythm, the android's head tipped back, eyes shut, mouth open as broken whimpers and groans spilled out. His own cock was throbbing within the confines of his jeans, but he couldn't bring himself to care, not when Connor was spread out for him like this, beautiful and completely uninhibited, lost in sensation.

"Hank," Connor said urgently. "Come here. Kiss me. Let me touch you too. Please."

Fuck, okay, yeah. That sounded good.

Hank crawled back on top of him, and it took him a minute to get the angle right, to be able to keep jerking Connor off and kiss him at the same time, but once he was in position, it was perfect. He loved this, could do this forever, swallowing Connor's little moans and gasps as the android's hips twitched beneath him.

And then Connor was unbuttoning Hank's jeans and it only took him a split second to get his hands down inside Hank's boxers and pull out his cock, and when he broke the kiss to look down at it and whispered "wow," Hank had to will himself not to come immediately for the second time that morning.

Connor started pumping Hank's cock, slowly and a little erratically, his brown eyes fixated on it like it was the hottest thing he'd ever seen, and Hank moaned because Connor's hand was smooth and cool and firm around his dick and he'd never felt anything quite like it before.

"Connor," he panted, " _fuck_ -"

And then Connor was kissing him again, and their cocks were bumping together as they stroked each other in a frantic rhythm and somehow, at some point, their hands fell away and they were just rutting against each other, cocks sliding together between their bodies and Hank couldn't remember _ever_ wanting _anyone_ this badly before.

And he wanted - _fuck_ , he wanted to - - but -

Connor, like he was reading his goddamn mind, whispered, "Hank, will you fuck me?"

Hank groaned. "Fuck, baby, I want to. God, you have no idea how badly I want to. But - I haven't exactly been - _prepared_ for this to happen - I don't have any -"

But Connor was grabbing Hank's hand, guiding it down between his legs, and when Hank pressed the tip of one finger into Connor's hole, he was met with a slick wetness.

"Con...?" he whispered questioningly.

Connor blushed. "Apparently, one of the features of my model is self-lubrication."

And, okay, that shouldn't be so fucking _hot_ , but it absolutely was.

"Tell me if I hurt you," Hank said. "Or if it's too much, or you need me to slow down - Okay?"

Connor nodded, and he was already rocking his hips like he was trying to get more of Hank's finger inside of him. Hank pushed himself up onto his knees so that he could see what he was doing, and he slid his finger in the rest of the way.

Connor's head rolled back against the pillow, biting his lip to stifle a whimper, and Hank was worried, just for a second.

"Good?" he asked cautiously. "Or bad?"

"Good, Hank, _don't stop_."

And, okay, Hank had no problem granting that particular favour. Connor felt amazing inside - silky and tight, nowhere near as warm as a human but warmer than the outside of his body. Hank pulled almost all the way out, pushed back in, and Connor moaned.

"Hank - more -" And Hank kind of loved that he was reducing Connor, an android with a supercomputer for a brain, to instinctual, one-word pleas. On the next thrust, he slipped a second finger in alongside the first. It was intoxicating to watch the way Connor's hole stretched around them, twitching and dribbling lubricant down Hank's wrist. Connor's hips were rocking down to meet him with every movement, and it was almost easy to press in a third finger.

"Hank - I'm ready - _please_ -" Connor looked up at him, eyes pleading. "I need you inside me."

Hank's cock _throbbed_. "Yeah, okay. Okay," he said. He shoved his pants and boxers down around his knees, flailed around awkwardly for a moment to kick them the rest of the way off, and _God_ , he probably looked like an idiot but Connor didn't seem to mind, not when he was biting his lip and slipping a hand between his own legs to trace one finger around the rim of his hole.

"Impatient," Hank huffed, but it was undercut with a soft grin. He positioned himself between Connor's legs, grasping the android's hand and moving it away. Before he let it go, he pressed a kiss to the back of it, and the little humming noise Connor made in response was adorable.

Hank took his own cock in hand, giving it a couple of strokes for good measure before lining it up, just barely touching the head to Connor's entrance.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yes," Connor said breathlessly. "Please, Hank."

Hank pressed forward, and there was only a brief moment of resistance before the head of his dick slid inside.

"Oh," he breathed. " _Connor_."

There was no way he could have prepared himself for how good Connor would feel around him, so _smoothslickfirm **tight**_ and here he was again, using all of his willpower to not come instantly. God, fucking Connor was like some form of cruel but heavenly stamina training.

"Hank," Connor groaned, pushing his hips down. Hank's cock slid easily in another couple of inches.

" _Fuck_ ," Hank said appreciatively. He gave a gentle thrust of his hips, and then he was buried to the hilt inside the android. "God, Connor, look at you take it."

Connor whimpered at the praise, grabbing Hank's hands and pulling him down on top of him, into a deep, heated kiss. Hank rolled his hips, moaning into Connor's mouth as the android matched his movements. It was so good, so fucking _perfect_. Connor raised his legs, wrapping them around Hank's waist, giving him the leverage he needed to press in deeper. With every thrust, Connor tightened around him like a vise, as if he didn't want Hank to pull out even for a second. God, it was incredible.

"You feel - so fucking good - inside me -" Connor panted between kisses. "It's so much - I think - _Hank_ -!"

Hank could feel Connor tightening around him, could feel his kisses getting sloppier, and he reached down between them to wrap his hand around Connor's leaking cock.

"That's it, Con," he whispered. "Come for me, baby."

Connor's whole body shook once, twice, and then he tossed his head back, moans dissolving into static as he came, spilling over Hank's hand and both of their stomachs. Hank buried his face in Connor's shoulder, sucking desperate kisses into the synthetic skin there as he was finally pulled over the edge. He shouted as he came, his whole body twitching as he spilled inside Connor. Exhausted, he slumped onto the android's chest.

They were silent for a moment, Hank breathing heavily while Connor's cooling fans clicked and whirred. Hank thought he could just lay there forever and he'd be content.

Finally, he pushed himself back up onto his knees and pulled out. His softening cock gave a valiant twitch as he watched his come trickle out of Connor's ass.

He flopped down onto his back next to Connor.

"So," he said, and because he couldn't think of anything to say; "That happened, huh?"

Connor looked over at him and laughed softly. "It did."

"How was it? First time, and all that?"

"Incredible," Connor replied easily. "Like nothing I've ever felt. I'd like to do it again, as many times as possible." He paused, then smirked. "Are you finishing for compliments?"

"Nah," Hank replied, shrugging. "Just wanted to make sure that you enjoyed yourself."

Connor smiled. "I did. Thank you, Hank." He rolled over onto his side and leaned in to kiss Hank again, soft and deep. Hank closed his eyes and melted into it. It felt so natural that he could hardly believe they'd only kissed for the first time this morning.

The dam inside him that had been holding back his feelings for the android was shattered now, and he felt flooded with it. He could only imagine how Connor felt, how overwhelming it must be to be feeling _everything_ for the first time.

He was a deviant now. They were going to have to talk about it later, figure out what to do about it. Hank only knew he would do everything within his earthly power to stop the bastards at Cyberlife from getting their hands on Connor.

But that conversation could wait, at least for a couple of hours.

Hank nudged Connor gently until he rolled over onto his other side, then moved closer until his chest was pressed up against Connor's back, slinging an arm over the android's waist.

"This is how you woke up this morning," Connor observed.

Hank pressed a kiss to the back of Connor's neck. "Yeah," he murmured, "And I hope it's how I wake up every morning from now on, too."


End file.
